


Caught

by Inspire_me_to_breathe



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Ariadne finds it hilarious, Discussing people's sex lives, Dom nearly has a heart attack, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Out, Past Arthur/OFC, Public Sex, References to Child Death, Secret Relationship, Workplace Sex, Yusuf almost pukes, sad past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 11:34:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inspire_me_to_breathe/pseuds/Inspire_me_to_breathe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ariadne cocked her head curiously, and peered around the edge of the door. Standing next to Arthur was Eames, all casual confidence and dubious intentions. An easy grin slid across his face, and before Ariadne could process it, he swooped in and kissed Arthur. On the lips.</p><p> </p><p>LAST PART COMPLETE</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The takeaway coffee was still warm in Ariadne’s hands as she strolled down one of the many white, Parisian roads. She was early today; woken by birds who had settled outside her window, and she decided to make use of the time by enjoying a leisurely walk to the warehouse, with the additional treat of scalding hot coffee. Usually, stopping by at the café down the road resulted in her being late to work, a crime for which Arthur would scowl at her adorably. Well, today he wouldn’t tell her off – she was going to be on time.

The sky was still flushed by the presence of dawn, and Ariadne resolved to watch the sun rise tomorrow from her apartment’s window. It was as her older sister had always said; wake up an hour earlier, live an hour longer. With that in mind, she deftly pressed in the key code to the warehouse, smiling slightly at the responsive click when the door unlocked.

Arthur would be here by now, like he was every day, sitting dutifully at his desk no matter how early she got there. Sometimes there would be a slight smile on his face, as if beating her was his own private victory. Of course, Ariadne allowed him that. The guy needed some excitement in his life. From what she heard his marriage was about as fun-filled as a bag of bricks, although his wife was very hot (she noted as an objective observer).

Occasionally Dom or Yusuf would get to work before her, but they never thought to make coffee like Arthur always did.

Some half-remembered tune wound itself around Ariadne’s head, breaking out in a soft hum. The melody was out slightly, making Ariadne giggle at her own tunelessness. Her mother had always promised her she had the voice of an angel, so, for the first thirteen years of her life, Ariadne had relished the prospect of singing in public. But then some nasty comments alerted her to the falsity of her mother’s claims, and she had lost all her confidence. Funny how she didn’t care now, and would rather sing awfully than sit quietly in the corner. Much like Eames, who she suspected had a wonderful singing voice, but sang as horribly and as loudly as possible just to annoy Arthur.

Not that it took much for Eames to irritate him.

Ariadne’s hum morphed into a whistle as she bounded up the final set of stairs to reach the top floor of the warehouse. She adjusted her grip on the coffee and then struggled with her bags in order to open the door, and it was as she paused to sort herself out that she heard something.

Voices.

She cocked her head curiously, and peered around the edge of the door to take a look inside, fearing the worse. She smiled in relief when she realised it was just Arthur, sitting on his desk at a slight angle so she could see his profile. Standing next to him was Eames, all casual confidence and dubious intentions. An easy grin slid across his face, and before Ariadne could process it, he swooped in and kissed Arthur. On the lips.

Ariadne dropped her coffee in shock, trying to supress a whimper as it scalded her bare arms. She couldn’t look away, expecting Arthur to recoil, to push him away, maybe even punch him. But he didn’t. Instead an embarrassingly appreciative moan escaped his lips as a hand moved upwards to cradle Eames’s jaw, another sliding round to grip his waist. Arthur pulled Eames towards him, and their hips connected suddenly, eliciting another moan from the pair of them.

Ariadne drew away into the stairwell. She was trembling a little, out of shock, and her skin was now stained red by the spilt coffee.

“Ariadne?” Dom’s voice echoed up the stairs, and she whipped round, pressing a single finger to her lips. Dom paused, frowning in concern. One hand slipped into his jacket, fingers no doubt curling around the trigger of a gun.

“What is it?” He mouthed, edging forward with careful steps that had been refined over years of being hunted down in dreams and reality. “Are you okay?”

Ariadne just shook her head mutely, and a gasp of laughter escaped her. “You won’t believe it.” She whispered in an amused voice.

Dom was still bemused, but less wary now, “What’s the matter?”

“Take a look.” She gestured merrily towards the door.

Dom, raising his eyebrows at her, crept up the steps and peered through the crack. His eyes narrowed and for a second he just stared, before stumbling back down to the safety of the stairwell.

“What they hell.” He leaned against Ariadne for support.

“Eames and Arthur are kissing!” She confirmed, patting his shoulder in a comforting manner.

Dom shuddered, “They’re doing a bit more than just kissing.”

“What?” Ariadne hesitated, “I saw them, like thirty seconds ago. Making out.”

“Uh huh.” Dom managed a strangled whimper, “Not anymore.”

Ariadne bolted up the stairs for another look, leaving Dom to regain his composure.

Eames and Arthur were pressed flush against each other, rocking and rubbing in an indecent fashion. If the desk hadn’t been there to support him, Arthur looked like he might have collapsed to the floor already. As it was Arthur had wrapped his legs around Eames’s waist, and had his head thrown back in ecstasy as Eames mouthed along his jawline, pressing kisses to the hollow of his throat and licking his fevered skin. Arthur’s hand was pressed against Eames’s cock, stroking him through the fabric of his trousers, while Eames thrust himself harder and harder against the other man.

“Oh, fuck, Eames.” Arthur murmured, just loud enough for Ariadne to hear over their laboured breathing. Eames hummed gently in response. The desk creaked violently, and, for a moment, Ariadne worried it would break under their weight, but it held and Eames and Arthur didn’t miss a beat.

“I fucking hate you, Eames.” Arthur growled as he lowered his head to graze his teeth over Eames’s flushed skin.

 Eames grinned deliciously. “I know, darling.”

Both Arthur’s hands were now working hastily to pull Eames’s shirt over his head. He ran his hands over the smooth, solid muscles that strained against him.

Ariadne blinked, then turned to face Dom. “They seem to be enjoying themselves.” She skipped back down to offer him support as he blanched, deciding she had seen enough of Eames’s and Arthur’s hijinks.

“Did you know they were gay?” She asked curiously.

Dom shook his head. “For Eames, there were rumours. Mainly because of the whole forging-of-women thing he does. But Arthur…” Dom drew in a shaky breath. “I’ve known him twelve years and never seen him even glance at another man.”

Ariadne considered this. “They flirt all the time.”

“They _argue_ all the time.” Dom corrected, at which Ariadne laughed at his naivety.

“I never realised they had so much in common.” She mused.

Dom nearly choked.

“But, I guess, they’re perfect for each other. Complete opposites.”

“No, no, no, no, no.” Dom sounded very adamant on the issue. “Arthur is married to Rachel and she is a lovely, perfectly delightful, young woman.” He ran a hand through his hair, “They were so in love. He wouldn’t stop talking about her for a month, after she agreed to go out with him.”

“Really?” Ariadne tilted her head, trying to reconstruct an image of Rachel from photographs she’s seen.

“Yeah,” said Dom fondly, “I was best man at the wedding. They used the same church as Mal and I, one by a small lake, whitewashed and flawless.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“It was. And he’d never cheat on her. That’s not Arthur. He loved her to fucking bits.”

“Then why is he…” Ariadne trailed off, biting her lip. This was more complicated than she had first suspected. Dom glanced at her, but had no answer to offer.

Silence now fell, broken only by the occasional muffled sound from within the room. Ariadne felt herself growing angry at Arthur, who was cheating on his wife with godamn _Eames_ of all people.

“Where’s Rachel now?” Ariadne asked with quiet furiousness.

“New York, maybe.” Dom shrugged, “I heard they moved house, but Arthur hasn’t told me where exactly. Probably to protect her.”

They sat a while on the cold, concrete steps. It was almost time for work, but neither dared to interrupt the pair. This was, by far, the weirdest situation Ariadne had ever been in. She just hoped that after it was over, she would be able to face Arthur and Eames’s again. The noises were becoming unbearable so Ariadne started talking again in an attempt to drown it out.

“So we’ve established Arthur’s not supposed to be gay,’ this was said with a hint of irony, “But what about Eames?”

“Well, you know what he’s like.” Dom answered vaguely, in lieu of a real answer.

“Has he been with other men before?”

“Not that I’m aware of, but I bet he gets up to all sorts when the job’s over.” Dom lent his head back against the wall and breathed in deeply. “But then, he’s only ever seemed interested in women.”

“That’s what I thought.” Ariadne noted, “Like that time with the gorgeous waitress. He was drooling all over her.”

Dom shrugged, “I don’t ever think I’ll be able to work out what’s going on in that head of his.”

“Whose head?” Yusuf appeared beside them, shabby briefcase clasped in one hand. He did a double-take when he realised they were sitting on the floor. “What are you doing?”

“I think the question is what are Eames and Arthur doing?” Ariadne kept her voice dry, giving nothing away so Yusuf continued looking confused.

Dom smirked despite himself, and exchanged a glance with Yusuf. “Why don’t you go upstairs and we’ll follow behind in a minute.”

The suggestion was thick with suspicious nonchalance, but Yusuf didn’t realise. Instead, he seemed to have drawn a different conclusion.

“Yeah, I’ll go.” Pause, “Leave you guys alone.” And he honest-to-God _winked_.

Ariadne bit back a laugh. “Great.” She sniggered, as Yusuf past her on the stairs and made his way towards the door.

Dom watched him intently, anticipating his reaction, and Ariadne forced a hand over her mouth to supress any noises.

“Holy mother of Christ!” Yusuf, wide eyed, shot back down the stairs. “There are some people having sex in there!”

“That’s unexpected.” Ariadne deadpanned.

Dom’s lips jerked up in a ghost of a smile, but he turned to Yusuf, “Could you tell who?”

“Jesus – I couldn’t – what the hell!” Yusuf was pacing, running a hand through his dark, curly hair. “Who would break into a warehouse to have a shag?”

“I don’t think they broke in.” Ariadne reasoned.

“We should call the police.” Yusuf continued, reaching for his mobile, “This is completely-“

“Unhygienic?” Dom suggested.

“Yes!” Yusuf punched in the numbers. “They could be murderers for all we know.”

As unrelated to the question of hygiene as this was, Ariadne pondered it. Undoubtedly, Eames and Arthur had killed projections in dreams, but she wondered if they had ever done so in reality. Still, that was a different matter entirely. “Yusuf, don’t call the police.”

He paused mid-dial. “Why not?”

“Because it’s Eames and Arthur.”

Yusuf’s jaw dropped. “Oh.”

“Oh.” Dom agreed.

Then Yusuf’s eyes widen in horror, “ _Eames and Arthur_?”

“None other.” Dom confirmed dryly.

“But they were naked.” Yusuf looked mentally scarred, “And having… sex.”

Dom grimaced. “Did you know they were gay?”

Yusuf stared at him, and then nodded. “He never told me, but I could tell.”

“Who? Eames?” Ariadne frowned.

“Yeah. He would flirt with guys and disappear with them… you know what I mean.” Yusuf sat down heavily. “I wish I hadn’t seen that.”

Dom and Ariadne whole-heartedly agreed.

“But I never thought Arthur would give in to his flirting.” He fiddled with the strap on his bag, “Isn’t Arthur married?”

“To Rachel.” Dom nodded.

“Wow.” Yusuf seemed unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Do you reckon they’ve been at it long?” Dom asked.

“They were only just getting started when I got here.” Supplied Ariadne, pushing some stray hair back behind her ear.

“No. I mean, have they been together long?”

“ _Together_ together?”  Ariadne bit her lip. “When would they have…?”

Yusuf laughed shortly, “Could have been whenever. They spend a lot of time in each other’s company.”

“They do?” Ariadne had only seen them working together, and that was hardly a harmonious friendship.

“Eames had only been back in Mombasa for a week or so when Dom called. He’d been in America, he’d told me, and when I phoned him a few days before Arthur picked up.” Yusuf hesitated, and then added as an afterthought, “I assumed they were just hanging out.”

Ariadne snorted. “Arthur’s not the kind of guy to _just hang out_.”

Dom murmured his agreement, “Does that make them in a relationship?”

No one had an answer, and they all remained sitting on the steps for another quarter of an hour before daring to peek inside the room.

“It’s okay.” Ariadne whispered, “They’re fully clothed and at their own, respective desks.”

Dom nodded, switching into extractor mood, “Ariadne, you enter first. We’ll arrive a bit later. Act casual.” He stressed the word _casual,_ as if Ariadne needed telling.

She slipped inside the warehouse, smiling brightly. “Good morning!” Her voice broke slightly as it pitched upwards with nerves.

“Hello.” Arthur acknowledged her. He was busy staring intently as various papers. A few sheets were screwed up slightly, some even littered on the floor. Ariadne looked away.

“Morning, pet.” Eames responded cheerfully and shot her a grin. In one hand was a neatly folded paper aeroplane with which he was playing with. It flew through the air and hit Arthur in the head, of its own accord.

Ariadne set herself down at her workstation and busied herself with the model in front of her. After a few minutes Dom entered, shortly followed by Yusuf. They awkwardly moved about, trying not to imagine the events which had taken place here earlier.

“Guys,” Arthur glanced up, frowning. He seemed a little more relaxed than usual, or maybe a little annoyed. With Arthur it was hard to tell. He glanced between the three of them disapprovingly, and Ariadne felt a shock of worry that perhaps he knew they’d seen everything.

He scowled at them. Adorably.

“You’re all late.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter delves a little deeper into Arthur's past.  
> Warning for some possibly upsetting themes - see the notes at the end for more detail if this worries you, but it will contain spoilers. Hopefully, the story isn't too traumatizing, but I feel I should warn you :P

Ariadne spent the entire morning watching out for any signs that might give Arthur and Eames away. This time could probably have been spent more wisely, but Ariadne felt that the co-worker-shagging scandal was higher on her list of priorities.

So, she watched. And waited. But the two men were infallible.

She got so desperate for anything resembling gossip that, at lunchtime, she dragged Yusuf and Dom out of the warehouse to have a group chat.

“Any news?” She tried to sound casual as they waited in the line at Subway. Yusuf and Dom took a second to answer.

“I haven’t noticed anything,” Admitted Dom finally, “But I don’t know what to look for.”

“Oh, you know,” Ariadne waved a hand about airily, “Secret smiles, lingering looks and blatant sexual tension. That kind of stuff.”

Dom dropped his money and used scooping up the coins as an excuse to hide his blushing, while Yusuf started giggling uncontrollably.

“You two are pathetic.” Ariadne scolded, “I don’t know why I bother asking you for help.”

Dom straightened up again, “Sorry, but it’s a weird situation.”

“It’s Arthur and Eames” Yusuf added by way of agreement.

“Well, we’ve already established _that_ , but is it Arthur x Eames or Arthur/Eames or Arthur & Eames? That’s what we need to find out.” Ariadne raised an eyebrow in what she hoped was an impression of Sherlock Holmes. “That is the question.”

“What’s the difference?” Dom asked, sounding a little dumbfounded.

“Everything!” Ariadne shoved Dom out of the queue in exasperation. He glared at her balefully for a second, before trying to inch back in. An elderly lady shuffled forward, blocking his path, so he moodily returned to the back of the line, squinting angrily.

Ariadne sighed and turned to Yusuf, who nervously edged away from her, just in case she decided to lash out at him.

“We need a plan. We need to get them to confess. And this thing about Rachel, Arthur must have an excuse.”

Yusuf nodded thoughtfully, “He’s not the kind to cheat.”

“So how do we force them to spill?” Ariadne mused, not noticing Yusuf’s discomfit.

He cleared his throat, summoning the courage by staring at a picture of a sandwich and promising himself it as a reward for his bravery. “You know, Ariadne, they’re probably keeping it a secret for a good reason. We shouldn’t be meddling.”

“It’s not meddling if we’re interfering with honest intentions.”

“You’re code of ethics is questionable.” He deserved two sandwiches for that.

“Says the man who mixes illegal drug concoctions for fun.”

***

“Why do you call him _darling_?” Ariadne handed Eames his lunch, hoping to use the food as a bribe of sorts.

He raised an eyebrow, smirking a little, “He loves it really.”

“He does?” Ariadne questioned gleefully. Eames stared at her incredulously for a second before turning to talk to Yusuf.

That hadn’t gone well, Ariadne reflected as she bit into her sandwich. Must have hit a bit of a nerve.

***

“Oh.”

Ariadne looked up quickly, noting the peculiar tone of Dom’s utterance. He was hunched over his computer, staring intently at the screen. Around her, almost all of the other team members were now watching Dom carefully too.

“What’s the matter?” Arthur asked, stretching out in his office chair. This was probably the first time he’d moved since lunch.

“Ritchie just emailed me a picture from my wedding. Said he found it when he was clearing out his spare room.”

Ariadne peered over Dom’s shoulder at the monitor, trying to make out the pixelated image. She sensed Arthur tense minutely, and heard Eames swear softly, low under his breath.

Dom glanced at everyone’s expressions for a moment, before wheeling around and hitting print.

“It’s a nice picture,” He continued conversationally, reaching out to pick it out of the printer’s tray, “Yes, I remember this one. Mal had just taken her shoe off to fish out a bit of gravel.” He smiled faintly, “She almost fell over.”

Ariadne dragged her chair closer to share the photo with him. “Wow, you look young.” She grinned.

Dom laughed, “Hard to imagine, isn’t it?” He shook his head slightly in a fond sort of way, “And look at Arthur! The first time he wore a suit, I swear.”

“Oh! Let me see!” Eames giggled like a five year old and bounded over to take a look. He narrowly missed Arthur’s badly aimed slap, pausing a moment to shoot the point man a cheeky smirk. Ariadne thought that, perhaps, just maybe, she had finally witnessed a secret smile.

“You look delightful,” Eames teased, peering at the tiny figure that stood with his arm around Mal, and his other linked with a young woman’s.

“Who’s your date?” Yusuf wandered over too.

Arthur paused, “Rachel.”

“Your wife?” Ariadne asked curiously.

“Not then.” Arthur shrugged, avoiding the question.

“How long had you known her at that point?”

“Erm,” He did some quick calculations and answered vaguely, “A few years.”

She narrowed her eyes at his evasiveness and decided to probe a little more, “Dom said you got married at the same church.”

“We did, only we were married in winter and they decided on a summer wedding.” Arthur shared a look with Dom, “Probably a smart thing to do; we were freezing.”

Ariadne smiled, pleased at his openness, “Are you still married to her?”

Yusuf and Dom stared at her, mouths gaping.

Arthur stared at her too, and then, in place of a reply, leaned over to his desk drawer and pulled out a simple, gold ring, designed for the groom. “Does that answer your question?” He said slowly.

Beside him, Eames let out a soft, unhappy noise. It was so quiet Ariadne wasn’t quite sure she heard it. Indeed, no one else, not even Arthur, seemed to notice.

“Pretty,” Ariadne replied automatically, turning back to the photo to hide her confusion. She stared at the woman’s face; observing the hint of Hispanic descent in the tilt of her lips and the warmth of her chocolate brown eyes. She looked stunning in a simple navy blue dress, casting her in a completely different light to how Ariadne had seen her in any photos before. Arthur looked equally stunning, but younger and more carefree than the version she was familiar with, like he didn’t yet know the terrible secret he carried around today. Ariadne bit her lip, trying to search for answers in the way his arm wrapped around Rachel and she leaned in to his embrace. They made a damn good couple.

“She’s beautiful.” Ariadne said quietly, and Arthur agreed.

“Yes. Navy suited her.”

Ariadne glanced up at Eames, who was staring fixedly at the photo with a careful, blank expression on his face. She wondered if he was jealous. “Were you not invited, Eames?” She kept her tone light and teasing.

“Of course I was,” Eames pretended to sound insulted, “Who do you think took that breath-taking masterpiece of a photo?”

Ariadne smiled instinctively and let her gaze slip back to the beautiful, young woman.

 “Do you miss her lots when you’re away on business?”

Ariadne regretted it as soon as it slipped out of her mouth.

Arthur stood up abruptly. “We need to check the second level for any cracks that might occur as a result of the gravity shifts in the first level.” He stalked over to the PASIV and yanked the lid open, “We can’t afford any mistakes to be overlooked.”

Ariadne face-palmed, knowing she deserved it.

***

The dream was confused, dark with emotion. The architecture, although she’d designed it, left Ariadne feeling lost, like someone had redecorated her favourite cafe without telling her. It was subtle things; a vase more fit for a mantelpiece balancing on top of the bar, and a pastel cushion arranged on the hard grey chairs. Bits of Arthur’s home, she thought, that he’d brought into the dream because of the photo.

She wandered the empty halls of the hotel, trying to find Arthur, but he was avoiding her. In her periphery, Ariadne thought she saw a women wearing navy turn the corner and disappear as if being pursued.

Ariadne paused, then followed her.

“Hello?” She called out. Her throat felt dry and the corridor was empty, “Is anyone there?”

“Mommy?” A young girl’s voice echoed back.

Ariadne froze. She heard footsteps.

“No, mommy’s not here.” Arthur said softly, stepping out to appear in front of Ariadne. He shot her a cautious look, before his eyes flickered away, searching for the child. “But I’m here. I’m here for you.”

The child made a quiet, whimpering noise. “She said we were going for ice-cream.”

“Maybe next time, honey.” Arthur swallowed. Ariadne could practically hear his heart pounding as he took a wary step forward. “Where are you?”

“I’m hiding.” The girl whispered, and Ariadne couldn’t tell if the voice was coming from behind or in front. It seemed to permeate the whole dream.

“Why are you hiding?” Arthur forced his voice to stay even, “What’s there to hide from?”

The girl was silent. Ariadne drew in a shaky breath, trying to listen for the smallest sound that might indicate the girl’s whereabouts.

Suddenly, the girl screamed; sharp and panicked and pained.

“No, no, no!” Arthur roared, springing forward, racing towards the source. He yanked open a hotel door, but it was empty. “Oh God, Leah!” He whipped around, trying a different room.

“Fuck.”

Arthur was shaking, the fear rocking through his whole body. “Where are you?” His cry was ripped from his throat, and Ariadne raced over to steady him as he stumbled into another room.

“Arthur, it’s okay!”

The screaming never once stopped.

“It’s only a dream!”

Arthur shook off Ariadne’s calming hands and tried a different door, and another and another. Ariadne thought she saw the navy blue dress again, but couldn’t be sure. Finally, they reached the room at the end of the corridor. It was locked. Arthur rammed his shoulder against the door, muttering profanities through his teeth. Ariadne stepped forward, dreaming up a large, gold key, and offered it to Arthur before he dislocated his arm.

Without acknowledging her, Arthur snatched it from her grip and threw open the door. Immediately, the smell of blood hit Ariadne; deep and rich and sickening. She turned her face away to retch, but Arthur was already sprinting into the room. The screaming cut off.

There again, was the soft navy fabric, covered in blood. Its owner sat with her head bowed, breathing deeply.

Ariadne stared in horror at the sight of a small body curled up on the bed, mouth open as if, until moments earlier, it had been screaming,.

And then the dream collapsed.

***

Ariadne gasped awake, reaching to rip the line from her arm. She glanced up to see that, in the chair beside her, Arthur was also coming to, violently.

“Oh fuck, Leah.” He panted, his eyes clouded with confusion and panic. His hands scrabbled at the sides of his chair, needing to find something solid.

“What happened down there?” Eames asked quickly, his voice low and on guard. Ariadne blinked at him, before turning to stare at Arthur.

“They’ve killed her, they’ve killed her, they’ve fucking killed her.” The point man was moaning, burying his face in his hands. He was shaking uncontrollably, like he had been in the final moments of the dream.

Dom half rose out from his desk, concern sketched across his face, but Eames had reached Arthur within seconds and was coaxing him to look up.

“It’s okay, darling, you’re safe here. Do you remember where we are?”

“At home, I’m at home, and they’re both gone.” Arthur whimpered, flinching away from Eames’ touch.

“No, no.” Eames crouched beside him, speaking in a low, soothing tone, “We’re in Paris now, with Dom and Ariadne and Yusuf. They’re all here, and you’re safe.”

“But they’ve taken her. And they’re gonna kill her.” Arthur let out a sudden, keening sound, and Eames gripped him tightly, raising his eyes to share a worried glance with Dom.

“Yusuf, find some sedative.” Dom whispered quietly, not looking away from his stricken friend. Yusuf obeyed immediately, scuttling off to a back room.

“Eames.” Arthur moaned his name like a prayer, burying his face into the other man’s chest. His hands gripped Eames’ t-shirt desperately, pulling him closer. “I couldn’t save her.”

“I know, love, I know.” Eames breathed, stroking Arthur’s arm comfortingly. “But it’s not your fault.”

“It’s _all_ my fault.” Arthur had at least stopped crying now, but his shoulders were still tensed, and he still clung to Eames like the man was his only chance at salvation.

“No.” Eames hushed him, wrapping his arms around Arthur, “It’s okay now.”

“It’s not. I couldn’t find Leah.” Arthur mumbled, bringing his face up to rest his forehead against Eames’. “Where is she?”

Eames looked sad, “She’s dead, Arthur, but it wasn’t your fault.”

Arthur closed his eyes, “How do you know that?”

“Because I know you.” Eames murmured in reply, gently wiping away the tear tracks from Arthur’s cheeks. “I know that you’re a good person; you’re brave and loyal and wonderful and so godamn perfect it hurts to look at you.”

Arthur laughed unexpectedly, sceptically. “You’re biased.”

“Darling, have you ever known me to tell a lie?”

Arthur didn’t respond, but didn’t let the smile fade from his lips either.

At that moment, Yusuf returned, but Dom shook his head slightly and motioned for Ariadne to follow them into the kitchen, leaving Eames and Arthur alone.

“Coffee?” He asked, his voice a little guarded.

“Yes, please.” Ariadne muttered, lifting herself onto the counter, “Nice and strong.”

“Nice and strong, coming right up,” Dom half-smiled as he switched on the coffee machine.

“Well,” Yusuf began, “That was intense.”

Ariadne nodded, listening to the sounds from other room. She heard Arthur leave to get some fresh air, and then the warehouse door closed. She turned to Dom.

“Who’s Leah?” She felt nervous about speaking the name, and Dom sighed heavily.

“She was their daughter.”

“What?” Ariadne’s voice rose up a pitch. “You never said.”

“I didn’t think it was my place to say.” Dom confessed, raising his hands in surrender, “And I didn’t know she was… you know.”

Ariadne almost slapped him, “You didn’t know that your best friend’s daughter was dead?” She screeched.

“He never said, and the last time I saw her was about three months before Mal died, so I was a bit preoccupied with trying to save my wife! Then we went on the run for two years and he never mentioned it.” Dom looked very distressed, so Ariadne felt it best to stop picking on him.

“He had a daughter.” Ariadne spoke wearily and slid down to lean against the counter, “Who is dead.” She looked up at the guys, “Is that why he’s cheating on Rachel?”

Dom and Yusuf exchanged helpless looks.

The coffee maker announced the readiness of their drinks and Ariadne reached to pour herself some. She sipped it carefully but not because it was hot. The smell was strong and it reminded her of the dream.

“I have the voicemail Arthur sent when Leah was born.” Dom murmured quietly, wrapping his hands around his own mug. “I saved it because I thought we could play it on her eighteenth, in front of all her friends.” He smiled a small smile, and reached for his phone. “Do you want to hear it?”

Ariadne paused, unsure of what she wanted. It seemed wrong to snoop now she had a clearer understanding of the point man’s past, but she’d already come this far. “Yes.” Her voice was barely audible, but Dom nodded.

Yusuf took a step closer, one hand coming to rest comfortingly on Ariadne’s shoulder.

“Here goes.” Dom pressed a button, and suddenly the small kitchenette was filled with the sounds of a maternity ward.

“Hello, Dom?” Arthur’s voice was tinny and slightly distorted, but recognisably him. “Are you – oh, right. Voice mail.” Arthur laughed, sounding truly delighted.

“So, guess what? It’s a girl! We haven’t decided on a name yet. Rach wants to call her Leah but I think something like Storm or Ninja Baby would be much cooler.” Again, there was the laugh, light and carefree, “I don’t think I’ll win this one, to be honest. But, God, Dom, she’s so _beautiful._ You know how every parent says that, no matter how ugly their offspring is? Well, my baby is honestly the most gorgeous thing you’ll ever lay eyes upon. If you ever have a daughter, you’ll know what I mean. She’s just so tiny, and she has these little hands and little fingers and little toes and these massive eyes that are so adorable I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say no to her.” Arthur gushed, sounding breathless. It made Ariadne smile.

“Six pounds exactly, she weighs, with dark hair. Rachel says she looks like her nephew but I think she takes more after my uncle. She has my ears, but Rachel’s smile, so that makes up for it. And she has your nose too, Dom, I swear!” Ariadne glanced up to see Dom looking a little watery. Then she noticed Eames had joined them in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his eyes cast down at the floor.

“She’s with Rach now; I think she’s just woken up from a nap. I mean Leah, not Rachel. Although Rachel does look like she will fall unconscious any second.” Arthur sniggered, “Shall we go have a word with the ladies of the hour?” There were some rustling noises as Arthur sneaked his phone into the ward, and then, not directed towards the phone, they heard, “Hello, my lovely girls!”

“Is that Dom?” The voice was faint, raspy and tired, but full of affection. Rachel.

“Yeah, say hello.”

“Hi, Dom.” Her voice became louder all of a sudden, making Yusuf jump in surprise. “How’s Mal? I need to talk to her ASAP and warn her off having any children.”

“Be serious, Rachel.” Ariadne could hear Arthur rolling his eyes. “Tell him how the last five hours have been the most enjoyable of your life.”

“Well,” Rachel conceded, “Now it’s worth it. I have the most beautiful baby girl in the whole world.”

There was a small sound as Arthur kissed the top of Rachel’s head, or maybe Leah’s. “I think Leah wants to talk to you, Dom.”

Then the whole kitchen was flooded with the softest little baby sounds. Ariadne whimpered, turning her face to hide in Yusuf’s arm. Dom’s grip on the phone had tightened, and Eames had become so still he could have transformed into a statue.

The little snuffles continued, and Ariadne could picture the tiny child’s fist curling and uncurling as she gazed up at her father.

“Isn’t she wonderful?” Arthur sighed happily, “She’s going to be president of the United States one day, I can just tell. Anyway, I need to call my parents.” Arthur hesitated, “Oops, guess I should have told them before I told you.  Never mind.”  Again came that brilliant laugh, “I’ll talk to you soon, Dom, take care. We’ll bring Leah up to see you as soon as we can.” There was another pause, and a slow release of breath, “God, I can’t believe how perfect she is.” And then Arthur hung up.

The room fell silent; Dom’s grip loosening enough for the phone to slide through his fingers and hit the floor. Eames flinched at the sharp sound, and then abruptly left the room, leaving Ariadne to wonder what the hell she’d gotten herself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING - Kind of traumatic dream, references to child death, and Arthur freaks out a bit. And swears. A lot.
> 
> I feel a bit nervous about this chapter as the tone is a bit different from the first one. Do you think it works, or have I made a terrible mistake? I hope not :) The thing is, Arthur's not the kind of guy to just cheat on his wife, so I feel there needed to be a good reason for it. In this chapter, we're beginning to understand his past, and in the final chapter, hopefully everything will make sense. But in the meantime, was that too extreme? Or does it help to provide Arthur with a realistic, gritty background? (Please say the latter) Thanks for reading! xxxx


	3. Chapter 3

The following morning Arthur was the last to arrive at the warehouse. He took his place at the desk without making eye contact with anyone, and then proceeded to ignore everything that wasn't his laptop for the next few hours.

Ariadne crossed over to sit next to him, feeling guilty for his obvious emotional instability. 

"Arthur?" She said slowly, "Are you okay?"

"I'm walking on sunshine." He dead panned, hardly glancing up, before returning all his focus to the screen.

Ariadne resisted the urge to do the  _woah-woah-woah._

"Well, if you need anything..." She trailed off, feeling low.

The rest of the day continued in a similar manner. Silence prevailed, despite Yusuf's attempts at some light stand-up comedy.

"Why shouldn't you tell secrets in a green grocer’s?" Yusuf asked the room at large.

"Because the kind of secrets we own result in many people wishing to kill us and discussing them in public places is the surest and most idiotic way to die?" Arthur finally spoke, his eyes never leaving his work.

"No!" Yusuf pouted, "Because the potatoes have eyes, the cauliflowers have ears and the beans talk." He glared at the team, "Obviously." 

Dom rolled his eyes and Eames burst out laughing, although it sounded kind of strained.

After lunch, Saito paid them a visit so they could discuss the progress made on the project.

"We've got the first and third level sorted, but there are glitches in the second," Dom told him as he scribbled manically on the flip chart, drawing diagrams with bright blue arrows like veins against pale skin.

Saito nodded, "So will this be fixed by Tuesday?"

"Possibly. But we have important surveillance to do before then, so we'd need to prioritise." Arthur pointed out. His sleeves were rolled up, displaying his strong forearms, and as he leant forward on his elbows, Ariadne noticed a smudged, faded collection of numbers scrawled across his skin. It was eleven digits, so probably a phone number. She sneakily jotted it down in her notepad.

“I can do the surveillance alone, so that you can stay here tonight and tidy up the level.” Eames offered, but Arthur shook his head.

“Too dangerous.”

“What do you mean ‘too dangerous’?” Eames asked incredulously, “Last year in Poland you had me trail an ex-government assassin across the country with nothing but a Swiss army knife for protection! I think I can handle Fisher.”

Arthur frowned at him, “Priorities, Eames. Fisher has bodyguards and God knows what else. You’re not going out alone.”

“Did you just ground me?” Eames laughed disbelievingly, but Arthur wasn’t joking.

“Yes!” He snapped, narrowing his eyes, “Stay here tonight with everyone else.”

“I’ll go where I bloody well please, thank you _very_ much, Arthur.”

The point man matched his stare with startling obstinacy. “You’ll do what you’re told. You’re not the only one on this team – you don’t get to make decisions that will fuck up everything for the rest of us.”

Eames stared at him for a second, then, throwing his hands up in surrender, he exited the room, flouncing like a teenage girl.

Ariadne exhaled loudly. “So, that went well.”

Saito turned to Dom, “If you can’t control you’re team, Mr Cobb, then I have little hope of you being successful in this endeavour.”

“No, no, no!” Dom raised in hands in a placating gesture, “I mean, we have everything under control, everything’s fine,” He flashed Saito a winning smile, “Shall I show you the compounds?”

As he led Saito away, Dom quickly instructed Ariadne, “Find Eames. Make sure he doesn’t leave the country.” Then he turned to Arthur, frowning, “Be nice.”

Arthur stood up and stretched, an unhappy expression marring his features. “I’ll find the motherfucker.” He sighed, “If I don’t return within an hour, assume he murdered me and then check the bottom of the Seine for my body.”

Yusuf turned a funny shade of green.

Ariadne watched as the point man left the building, then she turned to Yusuf. “Recognise this number?”

He blinked, “No.”

“I’m going to ring it.”

“It’s an American number,” Yusuf noted, “Gonna cost a lot.”

 “That’s why I’m using Dom’s phone.” Ariadne stated craftily, then preceded to tap in the digits. An accented, female voice answered the call.

“Good afternoon, Shepherd and Greene, Divorce Attorney, how can I help you?”

“I, um, want a divorce,” Ariadne panicked.

The female spoke pleasantly, “Would you like to arrange a meeting with one of our lawyers?”

“No!” Ariadne babbled, “I changed my mind, I love him really, thank you for your time, have a nice day.”

She hung up, attempting to recover from her fit of word-vomiting, and then eyed Yusuf speculatively.

“Arthur’s getting a divorce.”

“Because he’s cheating?” Yusuf questioned.

Just then, Eames stormed into the room, “Where’s the bastard?” He demanded.

“Dom’s next door with Saito-”

“I meant, the other bastard!”

“He went looking for you.”

“Fucking idiot.” Eames muttered as he stalked out again, slamming the door behind him.

Ariadne sighed, “They’re both idiots.”

And Yusuf agreed, “Perfect for each other.”

***

The model was sat precariously on Ariadne’s desk. It was made of card and paper and was about as well-balanced as everyone’s favourite point man. She carefully raised the PVA up to secure a loose edge but it slipped through her fingers and the lid bounced off, covering her with sticky, white glue.

“Ah, shit!” She exclaimed, earning herself a hard look from Dom.

She made an apologetic face as she set down the offending model and traipsed out of the room to visit the toilet on the floor below, mindful to not let the glue drip over the floor.

As she came closer to the bathroom, she became aware of funny noises emitting from within one of the stalls. There was a sickening sense of déja-vu, and then an uplifting feeling of triumph as she contemplated the next course of action. The way she saw it, there were three options. Number one, quickly leave and hope Arthur and Eames didn’t catch on. Number two, enter noisily and see how they both reacted. Or number three, wait for them to finish in their own good time, let them leave the stall and discover her sitting in the bathroom, waiting expectantly with a smirk on her face.

When did her life become so debased?

She opted for number three, being a dirty little voyageur, and crept into the bathroom.

Sure enough, one of the stalls was locked and the frame shuddered every few seconds. It was quite comical, and Ariadne peered underneath the door to see Arthur’s polished shoes standing in front of what appeared to be Eames – on his knees.

She raised an eyebrow; grateful (and a little disappointed) that she couldn’t see more of the scene.

“Fuck…” Arthur muttered suddenly, making Ariadne jump. She tried to supress her giggles.

“Oh, yeah, Eames, oh _fuck_!”

Then Eames voice, “You sound like a French prostitute, darling.”

“That’s racist.” Arthur’s voice drifted from inside the cubicle, remarkably cool and composed for a man receiving a blowjob.

“It’s just an observation. Do you want me to continue this or not?”

“Please, do.” Arthur moaned.

“Then shut the hell up, you little whore, and stop pulling on my hair.”

“You say the sweetest things, asshole.”

Ariadne couldn’t restrain herself and burst out laughing.

There was silence and the stall instantly stopped shaking.

“Sorry, guys, don’t mind me.” She called out, tears in her eyes.

There was a sudden cluttering, a muffled ‘fuck!’ and then Arthur came tumbling out of the cubicle, looking wildly debauched.

Eames was still on the floor looking thoroughly amused, as if he’d just been pushed over. He stood up slowly and joined Arthur, who was bright red and speechless.

“Hello, Ariadne. What a pleasant surprise.” Eames said dryly, not even attempting to hide the fact he was rearranging the front of his trousers.

Ariadne grinned brightly, “Having fun?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, I was.”

She smirked, feeling uplifted, “So, what, you two are together?”

Eames and Arthur glanced at each other, Arthur dropping his gaze quickly as a guilty flush spread over his cheeks.

Eames looked put out. “Apparently not,” He muttered.

Arthur bit his lip, appealing to Ariadne, “It’s not what it looks like.”

She stared out him, “What do you mean? It seems kinda obvious what’s going on between you.”

Arthur shook his head, “There’s nothing between us, we’re just… messing around.”

Eames shot him a questioning look, the hurt evident in his eyes. “Messing around?”

“Yeah, you know,” Arthur said, almost unintelligibly, “Things aren’t really settled with my divorce yet…”

“So, what? I’m your portable fuck to help you get over the absence of your bitch-hag wife?”

“No!” Arthur exclaimed, “That’s not what-”

But Eames was already cutting him off, “Fine,” He snapped, “Be in denial.”

Arthur punched him in the mouth, hard enough to snap his head back.

“You know what, just fuck off, Eames!” He snarled, squaring up to the other man, “I told you, at the start, I said this wasn’t-”

“I know what you said,” Eames said loudly, rubbing at his jaw, “I just thought that, by now, you’d have realised what a load of shite it was.”

Ariadne grabbed at Arthur before he could have another go at the forger. She whipped round to Eames, pointing a finger at him, “You leave. I’m gonna chat with Arthur. You can have him back when I’ve talked some sense into him.”

Eames snorted, already leaving, “Good luck with that, honey,” he scoffed, and then, thrown casually over his shoulder before he disappeared, “I’m off to have a wank.”

Ariadne restrained Arthur until she was sure his desire for physical violence had subdued, then she put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Alright, this is how it’s gonna work. I’m not going to say anything for two minutes. During that time, you have to talk about Eames, about your wife, about anything you want. Uninterrupted.” She raised her watch, “The first things that come to mind, okay?”

Arthur shook his head, “That’s a stupid idea.”

Ariadne moved quickly and locked the toilet door before guarding the only way out. “No, it’s a brilliant idea, and you’re gonna do it, unless you want to squat in this bathroom until you die of old age.”

Arthur glared at her, paced for a while, then glared some more.

“Fine,” He relented, and then immediately sat down on the cold, tiled floor like a moody teenager.

“Excellent,” Ariadne beamed, “Two minutes. Go.”

Arthur huffed to himself, tutted rather loudly and then folded his arms in the most petulant manner possible.

“Fine,” he repeated, “Eames is an asshole. He thinks I should be grateful or something because he’s the first guy I have ever, _ever_ wanted to be with. Most people have that experimental phase in college, not me. I was one hundred and fifty fucking percent straight until I met him. I’m married, for crap’s sake! And I had a…” Arthur gritted his teeth, and Ariadne smiled encouragingly, “The point is, Eames is an insufferable knob, but he’s also really attractive, and I’m too fucking old to be having a sexual identity crisis. Even is Eames insists we’ve been flirting for years. Which we haven’t. I’ve been strictly professional, he’s the one who keeps coming on to me, and so one day I just thought _what the hell_ and I kissed him and he was shocked and then he laughed at me so I kissed him again to get him to shut up and I hadn’t even planned it. One thing kinda led to another and then, the next morning, it hits me, and I realise I cheated on my wife. With Eames.”

Ariadne sighed, “Poor you.”

“Yeah, poor me,” Arthur agreed a little too forcefully, then he put his head in his hands. “I just liked how he made me feel.”

Ariadne moved away from the door and slid down next to Arthur, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. She thought about saying something else to comfort him, but couldn’t really find the words.

A moment passed and Arthur peeked out from underneath his hands, “Honestly, I think maybe a small part of me _had_ planned it. To get back at Rachel.”

“For what?” Ariadne asked quietly.

“She cheated on me. It had been a year, but it still hurt. I suppose it made us even.”

Ariadne made a small noise in the back of her throat. It was sympathetic even if it was a little vague.

They sat like that for a while, but Arthur seemed unwillingly to share anymore and Ariadne decided not to push him, so she didn’t object when he shifted away from her.

“Okay, back to work.” He said finally, and dragged the architect up with him.

Ariadne smiled, “Well done,”

Arthur shot her a self-deprecating look in return and opened the bathroom door, only to pause in surprise.

Eames was sitting outside, looking as glum as an abandoned puppy. He stood up quickly when he saw Arthur.

“I’m sorry.” He said sincerely, looking more earnest than Ariadne could ever remember him being.

Arthur paused and then curled his hand into his, “I am too.”

***

­­The second level of the dream seemed more stable, although if you went down a certain corridor on the third floor you always seemed to end up in a miniature jungle, a remnant of Ariadne’s very early designs.

The team prowled through the hallways in order to establish the final layout. Arthur and Eames barely looked at each other or exchanged witty comments, but, by the way they seemed to orbit around each other, Ariadne was sure they were okay.

Dom led the way into the reception. The glass and steel interior was intimidating and the projections clipped-clopped around in sharp stilettoes or pointed shoes.

Randomly, a phone started to ring. To Ariadne’s left, Arthur fumbled, cursing, to pull out a mobile.

“Should I answer it?” He asked Dom, who shrugged, slightly alarmed. Eames shook his head minutely but Arthur was already putting it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Mr Arthur Blake?”

Arthur paled, “Yeah, that’s me.”

“This is Emmanuel County Hospital. We’re calling to inform you that your daughter, Leah Blake, is currently-”

Arthur threw the phone to the ground and stamped on it.

Everyone stared at the mangled remains, and then, slightly muffled but still strong, the phone began to ring again.

“Alright,” Dom called, “Everyone out.” He pulled out his gun and turned it to his temple, “Leave the phone; we’re going.”

“Arthur.”

The voice was female, with a strong, husky Latino accent. Everyone froze, and a woman walked in amongst them wearing a navy blue dress.

“Where are you going?” she asked, stepping over the crushed plastic to place a delicate hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “There’s no rush.”

“Get your hands off me.” Arthur said, low and dangerous. “You’re a fucking projection.”

She shrugged, “Maybe I’m not real, but your guilt is.”

He side-stepped away from her and immediately Eames was by his side.

“I’m not guilty,” Arthur hissed, “You are, you bitch.”

“For what?” She said sweetly, “Isn’t a girl allowed to have some fun while her husband spends months at a time on the other side of the globe, fucking all his little men?”

“I never fucked anyone when we were together. Not until after I found out you and that guy-”

“Peter.”

“-You and _that guy_ had been fooling around behind my back.” Arthur growled.

Rachel raised an elegant eyebrow, “All’s fair in love and war, you know that.”

“It wasn’t a war.”

She shot him a look, “But there were casualties.”

“Because of _you.”_

“Because you weren’t at home, so your wife got lonely. She had to raise your daughter all by herself. It was hard, and she needed to relax a little, have a little fun.”

Rachel slowly started to slip off her dress, letting the dark, blue straps fall down her arms. She kept moving closer to Arthur, invading his personal space.

“One day, she invites a friend over for lunch, and _whoops_ they end up fucking on the leather coach.”

She kicked off her heels and let them clatter to the ground.

“But – _oh no_ – they were careless. Left the front door unlocked.”

The dress pooled down around her feet and she stepped out of it. She pressed herself up against Arthur’s chest, tracing circles over his collarbone. He tensed, tried to move away, but Rachel’s grip on his arm was strong.

“And Arthur comes home, doesn’t he? To see them there in their naked glory, rutting like bitches in heat.” She laughed, sweetly, and one hand unhooked her bra so that it fell between her and Arthur’s bodies.

“But then the phone call comes, and who can it be on the other end but the _hospital_. Because four year olds are curious about the world, aren’t they? And if they see a door left unlocked, they open it.”

Her fingers walked along his arm and Arthur was petrified, looking lost and scared.

“And four year olds forget, in their excitement, to look both ways when they cross-”

“That’s enough!” Arthur shoved her backwards, creating distance between himself and the naked woman.

Without hesitation, he raised the gun and shot her in the face. Once. Twice. Three times and she fell.

Then he woke himself up.

Ariadne searched wildly for Dom but he was already following Arthur up. Eames grabbed her arm with an odd expression fixed on his face.

“Time to go, pet.” He whispered as he touched the gun to her temple.

The team awoke in silence. Arthur was trembling slightly, but refused Dom’s offer of comfort. Instead he stared out of the window, watching as Paris stirred and hummed below them. Eames walked over slowly and sat beside him. Without looking, Arthur threaded their fingers together and leant his head against the other man’s shoulder.

“I miss her.” Arthur murmured quietly, and no one had to ask if her meant Leah or Rachel.

Yusuf wandered in to the room, whistling to himself, “How did the run go?”

“Not great,” Ariadne shrugged as she walked over to her desk. Sitting down, she noticed a thick looking envelope, “Hey, who’s the letter for?”

Yusuf looked over, “Oh, that’s for Arthur. It came while you were all under.”

“For me?” Arthur jolted up and hurried to take it off Ariadne. He shakily ripped it open like a kid at Christmas and emptied the ream onto the desk, scooping up the cover letter to scan quickly.

“What is it?” Eames asked in interest as he sauntered over.

“It’s from the attorney.” Arthur replied, frowning at the contents, “It says… oh, my god.” He looked up, beaming, “I’m divorced! Like, officially!”

There was a moment of stunned silence and then Eames leapt forward and kissed Arthur hard. The point man laughed as he drew away.

“Little bit presumptuous of you, isn’t it, Mr Eames?” Arthur teased, but Eames face fell and he started to draw away.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Arthur rolled his eyes and pulled him back, grinning into the open mouthed kiss. He staggered backwards as Eames threw all his weight into it and they went sprawling against the desk.

“Okay…” Ariadne skipped out of her chair and headed for safety, “We’ll leave you guys alone.”

As the three friends retreated into the kitchen, she couldn’t help but compare the image of Arthur and Eames to that first time when she’d caught them making out in the stolen hours before work. Then it had been desperate and a little regretful, but now she honestly couldn’t imagine two happier people in the whole world.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave kudos/comments if you liked!


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